


You Used To

by aphilologicalbatman (inabathrobe)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Skype, someone please teach Iker how technology works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabathrobe/pseuds/aphilologicalbatman
Summary: Sergio wants Iker to call him, maybe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful beta, italics grinch, and Dickens joke enabler, [Digs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/digs), and to [Yeats](archiveofourown.org/users/yeats) and [Hyb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hyb), who held my hand. Inspired by [Sergio's goal celebration](http://aphilologicalbatman.tumblr.com/post/158325185033/) from the match against Real Betis.

Just as he's getting bored with talking to reporters about whether the dressing room has lost faith in Keylor, which they can apparently ask him about in an infinite number of different configurations, his mobile rings. He picks it up and says, "Hey, baby, what's up?", without actually checking to see who's calling.

He's not wrong, though. "Am I watching you taking this phone call live?" Iker grumbles into his ear.

"No-o?" Sergio flashes a shit-eating grin at the cameras still focused on him and a horrified Marcelo, who is fielding a question about team cohesion and the need to rotate the squad. "Why, you wanna say something to them?"

"No, I want you to finish your interview and get off air, so I can tell you exactly what I think of that header."

Sergio sighs dramatically and says, "I'll be home soon," and then hangs up. To the camera, he adds, "Sorry, that was my wife."

Next to him, Marcelo snorts.

Later, when the kids are put to bed and he's kissed Pilar good night, it's too late to call back, but he does it anyway, lying in the guest bed with his iPad and waiting for Iker to pick up on FaceTime. It's Iker, though, so when he does, he's covering up the camera. "Iker, move your hand."

"What?"

"I can't see you. You're covering the front camera."

"Oh! Oh—" And the camera swings around and Sergio can see Iker's legs, pasty after the winter months, ending in a familiar pair of house slippers.

"No, you turned around the— Is Sara there?"

"No," Iker's foggy voice says shiftily.

"Hi Sergio!" Sara calls from the other side of the room. He can see her knees somewhere beyond the bed. It's strange to have never been in their house, to not know where they are down to the positioning of the furniture.

"How're the kids?" Sergio says, "and could you fix Iker's camera?"

She detaches from the background and walks over. She's shirtless and holding Lucas to one breast, probably trying to convince him to eat something, so he'll maybe sleep through the night. She disappears and, a moment later, the camera swings back around, this time unobscured by Iker's hand. She's half in the frame, smiling at him, and he grins back and blows her a kiss.

Iker makes a face. "Stop making passes at my wife."

"Never."

Sara kisses Iker's temple and putters out of view. Iker says, "You can't take calls during interviews. Not on live television."

Sergio yawns. "Did you call just to lecture me?"

"You called me!"

"Not during interviews, I didn't."

Iker huffs, staring pointedly away.

Sara says, "If you two are going to stay up late, take it somewhere else."

"What, you don't want to join?" Sergio says, perking up.

"Not tonight," she says, voice warbly over the connection.

"Just a sec," Iker says, and he holds the camera such that Sergio gets the briefest blurred look through the master bedroom, down the hall, into what must be Sara's home office. When Iker comes back into focus, he's on a couch, propped up against one arm.

"I don't merit the guest room?"

Iker makes a face. "I'd have to change the sheets afterward."

"Oh," Sergio says, "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Mister I Called Right After the Match."

"I didn't think you'd pick up!"

Sergio sighs dramatically. "Okay, what are you wearing?"

"You can see what I'm wearing," Iker says.

"That's— Ugh, work with me here."

"I'm wearing a bathrobe and the grey slippers Sara hates."

"Nothing else?"

"Nah. Okay, you."

"Ugh, so romantic. I'm wearing Gucci boxer briefs and nothing else because _I_ dressed up for this."

Iker snorts. "Yeah, okay." A pause. "Can I see them?"

"On or off?"

"I don't actually care what your underwear looks like unless you're in it."

Sergio sighs. "Will you feel better if you yell at me about the match?"

"No."

"Come on, I know you want to."

Iker looks shifty. "I can't believe that goal for Betis," he says. "I mean, what the fuck was that? Keylor can't play the entire fucking defense by himself, you piece of shit. Where were you? Where were any of you? And thank God Zizou didn't decide to bench Luka because it would've been a complete disaster and— Sergio, are you getting off on this?"

"No," Sergio says breathily, his hand definitely not on his dick, "not at all."

"I can't believe you," Iker splutters. "That's— You—"

"Yeah?" His breathing is heavy enough that he moves the phone a little farther away, adjusts it so Iker can see what he's doing, but, he hopes, not just hear him panting into the microphone.

"So when you said you were wearing underwear— That was past tense?"

"I mean, they're still technically on my body."

"Take them off."

Sergio hurries to slide them down off his thighs, pushing them into the rumpled duvet at the bottom of the bed. "Better?"

"Yes. Really, you say I'm bad at this, but— are you even using lube?" Sergio shakes his head. "I can't believe you expect me to watch you give yourself a suboptimal handjob."

"Mmf."

"Stop." Sergio shoots him a mutinous look and holds up both his hands where Iker can see them. "Get some goddamn lube."

"There's lotion on the nightstand—"

"No, that's no good for internal use."

"It's not like I'm putting the lotion inside my dick _._ "

"Go get the lube."

Sergio flips him off and rolls over, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to see if there's any lube left in the nightstand drawer from back when sex with Iker after a match didn't mean FaceTime and their own hands. There's a couple stray packets, and even though there's nothing sloppier than ripping open a sample packet of lube, Sergio isn't going all the way to the master bedroom to get something better. At least, it isn't flavored, so his fingers won't smell like chemical cherry for a week, no matter how hard he scrubs them.

He flops back down, knocking his phone over. He can hear Iker swearing at him. He picks the phone up again, propping it up against his knees. "Sorry."

"You aren't."

"I'm not," Sergio says. He puts the packet on his stomach. "Take your bathrobe off."

"It's cold," Iker whines.

Sergio rolls his eyes. "Untie it for me?" He watches as Iker grumblingly does, pushing the terrycloth apart so that Sergio can tell that Iker was telling the truth about not wearing anything else and also that he's hard. "You missed me!"

"Fuck off."

"How much did you miss me?"

"Less now that I'm talking to you again."

"I missed you," Sergio says, stroking his dick so that Iker can see fairly clearly what he's up to. One of Iker's hands has mysteriously disappeared out of the frame, so he's counting that as a win.

"Slower," Iker says.

Sergio grumbles discontentedly.

"Slower," Iker repeats.

"You absolute bastard."

Iker sighs, pretending to be put out. "Stop whining." Sergio shoots him a look. "Well, let me enjoy you as long as I can while I have you."

When Sergio pulls himself together enough to look at the screen, Iker is giving him the smuggest look. "That was on purpose!"

Iker grins. "Yeah." He pauses. "Um. Did Pilar end up buying the strapon?"

Sergio raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to ask if she's fucked me since I last saw you?" Iker looks obscurely guilty. "Because the answer is yes and yes. Very yes."

"Oh, well, good. Okay," Iker says, looking squirrely. "You still have that lube?"

"You can see it in the video," Sergio says, picking up the packet off his chest. Then, it comes together for him. "Oh, wait, is _that_ where we're going?"

"Open it."

"Okay, but her dick is in the master bedroom."

"Shut up about your girlfriend's dick, and put lube on your fingers."

Sergio rips the packet open and tries to extract a modest amount of lube from it, knowing that he'll end up with either the barest smear or enough to drown in. He gets the latter. A lot ends up on his stomach, instead of his hand. "Fuck. Fuck!" Iker is laughing at him, but it's Iker, so he laughs too.

"You should've gone to get the bottle."

"I will turn this FaceTime off, old man."

"No, you won't." Which: no, he won't. "Come on, let me watch you finger yourself."

Sergio makes the grumpiest face he can summon while actively suppressing the thrill that it gives him that Iker actually has anything to contribute. (The first time, he'd thought they would just quietly listen to each other jerk off. Sergio had shot that idea down and made him turn on his phone camera, security risk be damned.)

Iker adds, "One at a time," and Sergio huffs.

He slides a hand down between his legs, teasing himself a little, the lube still just the edge of cold. He rolls onto his side, facing the phone. "Can you see okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"Good." He reaches behind and presses the first finger in, and it's a bit of a reach, it always is, which is why doesn't do this for himself very often, but fuck, it's worth it. It punches a groan out of him, and he scrabbles with the nails of his free hand against the inside of his thigh to balance out the feeling of it.

"Sergio," Iker says, a little staticky. "Look at me."

Sergio looks over at him, a little unfocused. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He slides a second finger in, not too deep, but he'll take it. "Shit, Iker."

"Mm?" Iker is holding the phone away from him, camera shaking with the movement of his body, so Sergio has a view of Iker stroking himself, the way Iker's hips flutter up into his fist. Sergio wraps one hand around his own dick, and Iker growls, "Babe," and Sergio drops his hand.

"Iker, come on."

"Ask nicely."

"Are you fucking—"

"Ask _nicely_."

"Please, sir, may I come some more?"

Iker bursts out laughing and says, "Well, go on."

Sergio grins at him and reangles the camera and goes for it. He lets himself be loud about it, since Iker is listening. He always wishes he could come just from the fingers, and maybe he could, but probably not by himself and probably not within the limits of his own patience.

"Hey," Iker says, and Sergio looks back at him. Iker is smiling at him.

Sergio tries to keep his eyes open when he comes, wants to watch Iker watching him, but he's fighting a losing battle. When he comes back down, he yawns and blinks sleepily at Iker and squints. "How's it going over there?"

"Fine."

"Can I help?"

"Don't talk dirty," Iker snaps.

Sergio sighs dramatically. "You just hate that you like it."

"No."

"Stubborn," Sergio says. "Come on, don't make me sit here while you unenthusiastically yank on your dick."

"Thank you," Iker says. "That's really helping."

"You know you want to tell me what to do."

Iker huffs. "Don't laugh."

"Why would I laugh?" Sergio says, suppressing the urge to laugh.

"Roll over, so I can watch you finger yourself."

Sergio frowns. "I won't be able to adjust the camera."

Iker rolls his eyes. "What, you don't have an ass selfie stick?"

"That's not even— Ugh." Sergio flops dramatically over. After a moment's self-indulgent sulk, he arranges himself in a way that he hopes is appealing.

From behind him, Iker says, "Well, I have a great view of your back."

Sergio twists around and tries to adjust himself to line up his ass with the iPad's camera, but when he turns back around, it's not lined up anymore. After a few minutes, Iker takes pity on him, and with a little bit of swearing (and more Iker making fun of Sergio's vanity than he thinks is strictly fair), they manage to straighten it out.

"See? I told you this wouldn't help," Iker says smugly, which Sergio thinks is pretty cheeky coming from a man who just insisted on finding the perfect angle from which to ogle Sergio's ass.

Sergio, who is above this kind of petty baiting, just slicks up a couple fingers with more lube and then ostentatiously pauses. "Well, if you don't think so…"

Iker growls Sergio's name, and Sergio cackles at him a little and then slides a couple fingers in. He feels— not tender exactly, but this isn't what he'd be doing if he didn't have company. The echoes of pleasure lurch through him, pulling out the sort of stupid little noises that Iker loves teasing him about later. ("Oh, you liked that, huh?" No shit, Iker, it's sex. He's supposed to _._ ) But then Iker says, "Sergio," in a way that's soft and full of awe and probably means that Iker is about to come and maybe say some more things that will embarrass him later and which Sergio will live off for months.

Trying to check over his shoulder, Sergio asks, "This good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're good."

Sergio pauses, preps his voice, and says, intentionally a little strained, " _Iker_ ," and he hears Iker come apart behind him, the thump that is probably Iker dropping his phone onto his chest, the grumbling that follows.

When Iker snaps, "Roll back over," Sergio knows that he's both embarrassed and finished. Sergio flops over, wipes his sticky fingers on his thigh, and smiles at him. Iker says, "Hi."

"Hi."

Iker watches him through the screen. He says, "I miss you," like he's almost mad about it.

Sergio grins at him. "I miss you, too. Come home." Iker grumbles. Sergio says again: "Come _home_."

Iker says, "Soon," and, "In the summer," and they both know that it's not enough. "Call me again next week?"

"Or you could call me."

"You know I don't know how," Iker says, trying to cover up his self-consciousness by being huffily aggrieved. Then, he adds, "I'll ask Sara to help."

"Have Sara _teach you_ , old man. What are you going to do when she wises up and leaves you?"

Iker shrugs. "Move in with you and Pilar?"

"Oh, no, you don't get to ruin my relationship after you ruin yours."

"Pilar adores me," Iker says, faux offended.

"I'm hanging up now," Sergio says, and doesn't. After a few minutes of sleepy silence, he says, "You should go to bed."

"Yeah."

"Iker."

"Yeah, okay, okay." He levers himself up, opens his mouth to say something, and yawns instead. He squints sleepily at Sergio. "Be good."

"Never."

Iker huffs and hangs up on him. Sergio will take it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](aphilologicalbatman.tumblr.com).


End file.
